


In the Morning

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Implied Blowjobs, Implied Sexual Content, Inspired By Tumblr, M/M, Miscommunication, One Night Stands, Sam Wilson is So Done, Sam Wilson is a Gift, Sassy Sam Wilson, Sneaking Out, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Steve Rogers breaks his 70 year dry spell and freaks out, we've all been there, we've all been there too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-31 10:23:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19424032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: I made breakfast... if you eat that sorta thing.In which Steve sneaks out on Sam after they hook up, and Sam can’t help but get a little snarky the next time he sees the super soldier.





	In the Morning

**Author's Note:**

> my first ever falconshield! i was super excited to write this :) inspired by a tumblr post i saw on my dash and have been unable to locate ever since, because such is the nature of that hellsite :)) hope you enjoy!

“ _Fuck_.”

Sam’s head thumps back against the wall, back arching, head rolling to the side as Steve crowds him, ducking his head and trailing kisses down Sam’s throat, across his clavicle, biting at the dip between his collarbones. “ _Jesus_. Do I get to make it look like you got mauled too?”

Steve trails his lips back up along the other side of Sam’s throat, mouthing at his jaw, pressing a quick peck to the corner of his lip before pulling away, having the decency to look a little sheepish, Sam notes with satisfaction.

“Sorry, just got carried away. You could try,” Steve offers, “but the serum doesn’t really let that kinda stuff last. Marks’ll be gone by morning.”

“Course they will,” Sam grunts, groaning when Steve grinds his hips forward. “Fuckin’ super soldier.”

“Sorry,” Steve mumbles again, and Sam huffs a laugh.

“Stop apologizing, stupid. S’not every day you get to take it up the ass from Captain America. I’ll take whatever, marks and all.” Sam chuckles, cupping Steve’s face, pulling him away from a spot on Sam’s neck he seems intent on marking as his personal property. He presses what he intended to be a soft kiss to Steve’s parted lips, just a quick peck, but then Steve slips him some tongue and Sam’s mouth opens wider on a moan that gets swallowed in Steve’s mouth and the kiss very quickly spins out of Sam’s control, rough and filthy with the slide of tongues and nips at each other’s lips.

They pull away panting, and Steve looks at Sam, something soft and vulnerable crossing his face, pulling the question from Sam’s mouth. “What’s up, sweetheart?”

“Would- are you opposed to being on top? Because I kinda prefer…”

“Taking it up the ass?” Sam asks wryly when Steve trails off, grinning when the question makes Steve flush even further, something he finds adorable and astounding in equal measure- he didn’t think it was possible for anyone to turn such a vivid shade of red.

“Sorry, ‘m usually not this nervous, s’just something about you,” Steve murmurs, ducking his head and looking away, and something inside Sam melts.

Unwrapping his arms from around Steve’s neck, Sam ducks underneath the other man’s arm, hooking an arm around Steve’s waist to spin him around, pressing him up against the wall before sinking to his knees with a wicked grin on his face at Steve’s sharp inhale. He reaches for Steve’s belt. “Let’s see what we can do about those nerves shall we, soldier?” Sam pulls the belt through the loops on Steve’s jeans, tossing it on the ground, reaching for Steve’s zipper, whose hands are already making their way to Sam’s hair.

“ _Fuck_ , Sam.”

He grins up at Steve, winking. “At your service, Captain Rogers.”

**

In the morning Sam feels it in the weight of the mattress before he even reaches an arm out.

Steve’s gone.

Sure enough, when he opens his eyes the bed is noticeably one blonde superhero short, slim piece of paper discarded on the sheets in his place.

_‘Thanks, Sam. I had fun.’_

Which, ouch.

Sam hadn’t been expecting an actual date or anything, and he figured Avengers didn’t just go around writing their personal phone numbers down for just anyone without six different types of background checks, but still. He expected better from guys his age, let alone a guy from the actual 40s- was chivalry really dead? Breakfast wasn’t too much to ask for, was it? Especially when you helped end a dude’s seventy year dry spell. (He wasn’t trying to be mean but- seventy years was a long ass time, and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t kinda obvious. Not very, though- what Steve lacked in skill, he more than made up for in enthusiasm.)

Sam trails his fingers across the bite marks ok his clavicle, trying to brush off the heaviness settling in the pit of his stomach - he’d known going in the night meant nothing, he just needed to remind himself.

Starting by throwing the note down the garbage disposal.

**

Weeks go by, and Sam tries not to think about that night - or the next morning - too often. He’s failing miserably, but it’s the thought that counts.

It becomes routine: wake up in the morning, think about Steve Rogers’ stupid face. Go for a run, listen for the obnoxious _on your left_. Take a shower, think about Steve Rogers, eyes closed and blissed out above him. ~~Jerk off to the image of Steve Rogers, eyes closed and blissed out above him.~~ So on and so forth throughout the day. It could be concerning, but then again, no one said a minor case of hero worship was unhealthy.

But then one morning there’s a knock on his back door and he opens it to find Captain America and Black Widow on his steps and for a second he has to ask himself if his hero worship is starting to manifest itself in hallucination. Maybe someone tampered with his OJ.

But then Steve’s asking him for help and he doesn’t hesitate, stepping aside to let them through the open door. If Sam’s hands linger too long on the curve of Steve’s shoulders when he helps the man out of his jacket and admire the cut of Steve’s muscles under his tank as he walks away down the hallway, well- that’s his business.

He busies himself with readying breakfast, making use of anything on the shelves in his fridge and in his cabinets. He’s not really sure how much a super soldier can put away, seeing as he didn’t get to find out - _bitter is_ not _a cute look, Wilson_ \- but he thinks it’s fair to say the answer is a lot.

Sam gives the two heroes using his bathroom - which, that’s not a sentence he ever thought he’d say - close to an hour to get cleaned up before he walks up to the open door. “I made breakfast.”

And he’d meant to leave it at that, really, because they’ve already established he’s not bitter in the slightest, but then his eyes cut to Steve and he’s looking at that stupidly perfect back and those stupidly soft, ridiculously blonde curls and it’s slipping out mostly without his consent- “if you guys eat that sorta thing.”

Even though he wishes immediately that he hadn’t said it, he can’t deny he feels an undercurrent of satisfaction when his words hit Steve, and the captain tilts his head in acknowledgment as if to say _yeah, I deserved that._

_Damn right he did._

They move into the kitchen and Steve sits down at his table and Nat leans against the counter, and Sam busies himself with the food, doing his level best to tune out their conversation- the last thing he needs is to get involved in superhuman, superhero shit.

But old habits die hard, and before he knows it Steve’s asking a question and he’s ready with an answer without thinking twice, throwing the Falcon file in front of them.

“I can’t ask you to do this, Sam. You got out for a good reason.”

“Dude, Captain America needs my help. There’s no better reason to get back in.” He responds without thinking, but a split-second of reflection makes him realize how much the words ring true, even if he does still feel kinda slighted.

Steve doesn’t protest, nodding his thanks, and when he asks where they can find a set of wings, Sam tells him without hesitation. They outline the finer details of their plan – which is mostly a whole lot of stealthing from Nat, fighting from Steve and sitting it out on the sidelines from Sam, which is perfectly fine with him, no need to get injured before the events have really begun – and Nat excuses herself to sort out some last minute things in the washroom, she says, fixing Steve with a meaningful glance and a not-so-subtle head nod in Sam’s direction before exiting the kitchen.

Steve heaves a sigh when she’s gone, turning to face Sam, but Sam holds up a hand, cutting him off before he can say anything. “Look, man-”

“I’m sorry.” It’s direct, blunt in the way that’s completely sincere, not forced in the slightest, and Sam feels his shoulders releasing tension he didn’t even realize he was carrying.

“I appreciate that. But you got nothin’ to be sorry for.”

“I didn’t stay for breakfast,” Steve responds, and Sam sighs, secretly reflecting on how much he likes a man that’s self-aware enough to know what he’s apologizing for without having to be told.

“Yeah, but it’s no big deal that you didn’t, not like we were plannin’ on makin’ any commitments to each other.”

“I’d have liked to. Would still like to, in fact, if me dippin’ out on you hasn’t fucked things up beyond repair.” And _What? The Fuck?_ Captain America _is standing in_ Sam’s _kitchen, telling_ Sam _that he wants to make_ commitments _to him, right after he agreed to help the guy save the world. What even is Sam’s life anymore?_

“You- you wanted, _want_ , this to be a thing?” Sam asks, aiming for clarifying, instead coming off breathy and hopeful, and he cringes inwardly. _Get a grip, Wilson_.

“I did,” Steve admits, moving around the table, closer to Sam. “I do. And that’s why I ran off, I think. First guy I’d hooked up with in seventy years and I was already fixin’ on makin’ him my fella? Didn’t want you to feel pressured to turn this into something it wasn’t.”

“Anyone ever tell you,” Sam responds, venturing closer to the super soldier, closing the last few feet between them, “that there’s this new thing in the 21st century called communication? Usually involves somethin’ like askin’ the other person what they want, havin’ a mature conversation.”

“Oh, yeah? Bucky was my best friend in the 40s and Tony’s my best friend now, so excuse me if I haven’t been part of all that many ‘mature’ conversations, in the last century _or_ this one,” Steve grins, extending an arm to snag Sam around the waist, pulling him closer while he laughs.

“Alright, you got me there. Don’t worry, soldier,” Sam grins, mirroring Steve, “I’ll get you caught up on how adults communicate in this day and age, and I think we’ll be good.”

Steve’s smile widens. “Looking forward to it. Just as soon as-” he says, spinning the two of them around, pressing Sam up against the edge of the table before sinking to his knees, smirking up at him,. “As soon as I take care of this. Never got to return the favour last time, if I remember correctly.”

“Yeah?” Sam breathes, trailing a thumb across Steve’s full lower lip, “you wanna suck me off?”

“At your service, Mr. Wilson.”

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr is @starkerchemistryy, come say hi! :)


End file.
